His greeting of Alice expressed deference and sincerity. But there was even more in it--something of the sensible attitude of a gentleman who, in meeting a lady in passing, and being himself an attendant, desires to be so considered and seeks with his greeting to dismiss himself from the situation. To this end, however, Francis's efforts were unsuccessful.
"He is the most modest man in the world," murmured Dolly, in concluding a eulogium, delivered to Alice almost in the poor Brother's face.
"Then why not spare his feelings?" suggested Kimberly.
"Because I don't believe in hiding a light under a bushel," returned Dolly, vigorously. "There is so little modesty left nowadays----"
"That you want to be rid of what there is," suggested Kimberly.
"That when I find it I think it a duty to recognize it," Dolly persisted.
Brother Francis maintained his composure as well as he could. Indeed, self-consciousness seemed quite lacking in him. "Surely," he smiled, bowing again, "Madame De Castro has a good heart. That," he added to Alice, italicizing his words with an expressive forefinger, "is the real secret. But I see danger even if one should possess a gift so precious as modesty," he continued, raising his finger this time in mild admonition; "when you--how do you say in English--'trot out' the modesty and set it up to look at"--Francis's large eyes grew luminous in pantomime--"the first thing you know, pff! Where is it? You search." Brother Francis beat the skirt of his black gown with his hands, and shook it as if to dislodge the missing virtue. Then holding his empty palms upward and outward, and adding the dismay of his shoulders to the fancied situation, he asked: "Where is it? It is gone!"
"Which means we shouldn't tempt Brother Francis's modesty," interposed Alice.
Francis looked at Alice inquiringly. "You are a Catholic?" he said, "your husband not."
Alice laughed: "How did you know?"